


feels like i'm walking with my heart on fire

by Uncontinuous (nights_fang)



Series: everything is changing but I think I love it now [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, We now take a break from your regularly scheduled fluff, not betad we die like everyone in the apocalypse that wasnt, to deal with stuff, we'll go back to fluff and happiness soon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights_fang/pseuds/Uncontinuous
Summary: Vanya's student comes over with bruises. Vanya deals with it.She doesn't kill the people responsible. Just barely. Good parents don't get themselves thrown in jail for bullshit like this.(Set before "i'll be your fifty thousand clapping like one")





	feels like i'm walking with my heart on fire

**Author's Note:**

> Remember how I said I may one day write the serious fic about how Sonya got sort of adopted by Vanya? This is that fic.
> 
> (Also I honestly do not understand why AO3 is messing up the reordering. Sorry folks)

 

The thing is, when you inadvertently find yourself the wrangler for a bunch of teenagers, you _have_ to be the responsible adult. Vanya has been bullied into slowly morphing into a sensible functioning adult because her life was invaded by preteens and teenagers. And instead of throwing them out and saving herself the hassle early on, Vanya let them in.

They’re hellions. They’re monsters. They’re beasts. Barring the few that _do_ have shitty home scenarios, most of them mooch off her for no reason. They leave their laundry for her. They eat all her food. They’ve taken over her living room. They’ve taken over her _life_. But Vanya _loves_ them.

She’s not sure if she fell fast and hard and deep. Or was it a slow slide into depths she cannot emerge from? She never even realised it until it had already settled into her just like she was Seven, and then hit her like a freight train. But, God, she loves them. Fiercely.

She’s not prepared for just _how_ fiercely. She’s not prepared for the lengths she’d go to for them. She’s still reeling from basically finagling a fifteen-year-old Ezekiel into moving with her because she was furious at the thought of him staying out on the streets. And it’s been months since he moved in. Yet some mornings she’ll wake up to him sleeping on the floor of her room instead of the couch. Probably crawled in after he couldn’t get sleep. He’s loud when he’s having nightmares and Vanya goes to him then. Or she’ll wake up to a living room with _some_ combination of her older students sprawled out, and feel a hazy fog of warmth settle inside her.

So yes, Vanya is in love with a rag tag bunch of hellion kids and is prepared to go to the ends of the earth for them. This is her life now. This is her now.

 

* * *

 

 

So, it is highly understandable that when Sonya walks in for her usual lesson, proper well-mannered head-on-her-shoulders and unfailingly kind and polite Sonya, and Vanya sees the stiffness with which she carries herself, the slight plasticity of her smile and Vanya knows something is wrong.

(Well no, she’s long suspected something is wrong. It’s in the way Sonya carries herself. She’s long tried to ask, but Sonya waves it away all the time.)

The biggest giveaway is in _how_ she holds her violin.

“Sonya,” Vanya says as gently as possible, “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.”

 _Bullshit_ Vanya thinks, as she once again adjusts Sonya’s stance, careful to keep her touch as light as possible. Sonya still winces, like it hurts. And that’s when Vanya sees it. Just a _shade_ of purpling and blue close to the back of Sonya’s neck when Sonya’s shirt shifts with movement. It ends in an abrupt and unnatural line of skin too airbrushed looking to be real.

Vanya has grown up in the Umbrella Academy. She knows when foundation is used to disguise bruises. Once they got old enough Allison would do it, and then Klaus too, badly because he’d steal Allison’s foundation until he got one which was the right shade for his own skin tone. They’d use it on others before press conferences too.

Vanya also knows that Sonya’s parents are out of the picture completely, have been since she was a toddler, she’s a foster kid. She’s moved around a couple of times. She won’t talk about her current foster family, unless it’s to praise them with suspiciously glassy eyes and an equally suspect smile. No, she _refuses_ to talk about her foster family. Sonya is also one of the first to arrive, one of the last to leave. She’s one of the few who stay over the most. And she’s always _always_ is doing something to help Vanya as if to justify staying here, as if to give Vanya a reason to keep her around. Vanya will not forget the whole cooking thing soon.

“Sonya,” she says quietly, as gently as she can because there is a maelstrom of rage building up in her. Rage for Sonya. Rage at whoever hurt this child. But her anger is secondary, so she shoves it back into the far recesses of her. Sonya is important here. “Let’s take a break today, all right? And once you’re okay with it, you’re going to tell me _why_ you have bruises.”

Sonya denies it as Vanya takes the violin and bow away from her and steers her into the bedroom. It is the one place none of the kids enter unless Vanya tells them (barring Ezekiel at night), and Sonya will undoubtedly want her privacy when the inevitable gang of ruffians make their way into Vanya’s apartment. Sonya protests as Vanya sets her down on the bed. Keeps protesting as Vanya leaves to make her tea, and the comes back, hands her tea and waits her out. Vanya has infinite patience built from years of practice like her violin skills. She waited for years for Five to run through all his thoughts and equations, for her siblings to notice her, for Reginald’s approval, for him to let her into the Academy. (Seven _still_ does.) Vanya is good at patience, and this has clearly been long coming.

(Should’ve still come sooner though.)

So, Vanya waits as Sonya drinks her tea, as Sonya protests. Waits through her heartbreak as Sonya slowly _slowly_ breaks down after years of keeping it in, goes stiff and nonverbal except for the soft gasps that leave her. Once the truth sets in, that no, it’s _not_ her fault.

(Vanya knows that. There is a mental mansion filled with boxes and boxes of that feeling. When Seven can deal with it, she takes out one. Seven has only cleared a few of them. There are still so many left to go.)

 

* * *

 

 

Sonya doesn’t go home that night. Or the nights after that. She stays in Vanya’s room holed up.

She still hasn’t told Vanya anything. Not how she got the bruises. Not whether there are more – although Vanya knows there were, probably many old and healed up, you don’t get so good at covering bruises up with makeup without _practice_. She also refuses Vanya’s offer to take her to a therapist, someone who is actually meant to deal with these things, or to go to the police.

The others ask about her. They’re not dumb. They know something is wrong. But they also understand that it’s not for Vanya to talk about when Vanya shrugs. Opt to leave notes for Sonya instead, and shove them under Vanya’s bedroom door. Vanya sees them in Sonya’s hands, and then under her pillow at night.

As much as she calls them demon and hell beasts, they’re good kids that way.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sonya’s going to stay with us?” Ezekiel asks quietly in the kitchen, the second night, once everyone has left. It’s not the tone he uses when some of the others usually stay over on weekends or when their parents are not at home, and Ezekiel needs to know how much spare bedding to pull out from where it’s stored under Vanya’s bed. It’s a different one. Vanya thinks it reminds her a lot of the tone she used with him when she made him stay.

“Yeah.” Because Vanya is not sure she’ll be able to actually send Sonya back even if she decided to go back. Can’t. They’d have to pry Sonya away from her now. And Vanya may be five foot nothing, but she’ll physically tear apart the person who tries to take Sonya away from her.

“Okay.” And then gets out the hot chocolate and caramel (Sonya’s only vice) and makes the biggest mug of hot caramel chocolate for Sonya. Proceeds to turn it into their own little nightly ritual.

Vanya has some _really good kids_.

 

* * *

 

 

Predictably, as the days go by, the other shoe finally drops. It’s in the form of her telephone ringing at 5pm. Sonya picks it up, the and colour immediately drains from her face. Vanya doesn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know why. The asshole is loud enough that the whole room, forget that, probably the whole apartment complex can hear him.

Vanya’s building rage is pierced by Sonya’s terrified and heartbroken face. It’s strange, she was used to seeing a similar face in the mirror for years growing up. She’d gotten numb to it. But seeing it on Sonya does something to her. And it would be so easy to lose control. To take the phone and yell back. To threaten the shithead. But all of that would be to make Vanya feel better _not Sonya_. And Sonya needs to feel better. So, Vanya calms herself down admirably fast, eases the phone out of Sonya’s hands and unceremoniously slams it down.

“That children,” she says, “is how you deal with pests.”

She doesn’t tell Sonya that this is her home now for as long as she wants it. That Sonya will never have to go back to that man. Vanya doesn’t give Sonya platitudes. That never worked for her. Just let’s Sonya sink and sob into her shoulder until she feels better about it. Because Vanya knows abusers. Knows how they get when you leave. And she knows this won’t be the last time she has to deal with this.

(And maybe that should clue her in. How she knows these things in a cold calculated way. But those are things that she is not ready to deal with herself, even if she is willing to use it to help her kids.)

 

* * *

 

 

The calls come frequently after that. It’s an unspoken agreement that Sonya will not handle any of them. No one will answer when Vanya or Ezekiel pick up the phone at first. Then finally, a woman – Sonya’s foster mother starts asking about her, for her. She’s kind at first. She makes small talk. It’s almost as Sonya’s just staying over like she normally does, and it’s gone on for a little longer than expected, and Sonya didn’t walk into Vanya’s house with bruises and on the verge of a breakdown.

Ezekiel is far better at handling those calls than Vanya is, for Vanya is too angry at this woman and the farce. There’s almost a sort of strange calm in him, an oily smile on his face, as he makes small talk back. It grates on Vanya further because while Matthew smooth talks and flirts for _fun_ , Ezekiel does it like it’s a survival skill, and for him it probably _was_.

She’s so angry these days. They’re kids. They don’t deserve this. She should’ve protected them.

But soon enough the pretence drops. Questions about when Sonya is coming home get more suggestive, and then more pointed, and then become flat out orders. And then of course come the threats, the slander, the accusations of kidnapping and or brainwashing Sonya, the accusations of doing worse. The foster father gets in on it too, probably finally relieved to spew crass perverted venom at them. Ezekiel turns shaky after the first few times. But they calm Vanya down because this? This Vanya can handle. Probably it comes with the territory of being taunted by your adoptive father all your life. Sonya’s foster parents have _nothing_ on Reginald Hargreeves. Vanya would go as far to say that these conversations are _mildly amusing_.

Mostly because Vanya knows that they’re only empty threats. That it comes from a place of fear. Sonya’s foster parents can’t really risk _doing_ anything. Child abuse is a serious accusation after all. Especially coming from her. Vanya is a tiny middle-class white woman with a great standing in society what with the whole playing for the Icarus Orchestra. She can leverage that a whole fucking lot.

“Ezekiel’s right, you’re scary sometimes V,” Sonya says one day after such a phone call. Hopefully the _last_ one, considering Vanya’s lost her patience with the whole thing and threatened to sue them for all they’re worth.

For a second Vanya’s blood runs cold at how small Sonya sounds, because she never wants to be the reason for Sonya to use that tone. She doesn’t want Sonya or any of her kids to be afraid of her. But Sonya’s expression looks more relieved than anything else. And she comes in and hugs Vanya tight, face buried into Vanya’s neck, and Vanya relaxes.

 

* * *

 

 

The straw that breaks the camel’s back is this: Jasmine and Vanessa take Sonya out to cheer her up. Her foster father corners them. Vanya never learns if it was a coincidence or he was stalking them.

They barely manage to lose him. Arrive at her door shaky and trembling and terrified out of their minds. Sonya is catatonic. They all stay over. The others hovering over them in worry and then fear as Vanessa haltingly recounts the whole incident. Jump every time there’s a knock on the door.

Parents are contacted, and they come and take their kids, they take the few that don’t want to go home to their own parents tonight. Vanya will have to look into that eventually.

Sonya and Ezekiel refuse to leave. Vanya can barely convince them otherwise. Damon – Ellie’s father, elects to stay back after sending Ellie home with her mother. Tells her that they shouldn’t be alone in the apartment now that things have escalated. And it makes sense because Damon is a security contractor, six foot two of pure muscle, and well it makes them all feel safer.

He talks about things like protocol, and getting some of his workmates assigned to Vanya until this whole thing blows over, and self-defence lessons.

Except Vanya is done. Vanya is so fucking _done_. She can’t live her whole life like this. _Her kids can’t live like this_.

Vanya slips out when they’re not looking. She’s old hat at it.

 

* * *

 

 

Sonya’s foster mother opens the door. Vanya doesn’t give her any time to react as she swans into the apartment. It’s filthy. Probably hasn’t been cleaned since Sonya isn’t there now to be a slave.

Sonya’s foster father comes in from wherever the fuck he was, six foot something, all bluster and machismo. Has the audacity to loom over her. As if that would _scare_ Vanya.

It would. It honestly would at any other time. But Vanya isn’t thinking clearly. She’s functioning on autopilot, on a single wavelength of _rage_ and _protect_ and there’s a cold voice at the back of her head that reminds her that this asshole is _nothing_. She grew up with Luther. With Ben who was small, but the monsters inside him loomed larger than life. Seven notes that this asshole being this close puts him at perfect stabbing range, and how easy it would be to just gut him like a fish and leave him dying here. That thought makes Vanya _smile_.

It’s not a very nice smile. Not by the way Sonya’s foster mother seems to edge away.

(If she’d caught her reflection on the glass, she’d have noticed her eyes have turned white. She’d have noticed the windows have suddenly cracked. She’d have noticed the breeze that’s happening without an explanation.)

Sonya’s foster father takes another step in his attempt to loom, but he doesn’t seem to have the bluster he had before. Vanya meets his gaze, and takes a step forward. “Do you know what my name is?”

That is clearly not something this man was expecting. Either of them.

But then again, abusers never expect people to fight back.

“My name is Vanya Hargreeves. As in _that_ Hargreeves.” She sees their eyes go wide. Good. _Good_. “Reginald eccentric billionaire Hargreeves. Man who adopted The Umbrella Academy. I’m the girl from the book. The girl who _wrote_ the book. How many murders do you think we got away with while saving the world and being superheroes? So just tell me, who the fuck do _you_ _think you are_?” Asshole takes a step back now. Finally notices the knife in Vanya’s hand. He looks scared. So does Sonya’s foster mother. Too scared to actually question the fact that Vanya told the world she had zero powers. But then again, she could have lied about never being trained. That’s the leading theory. No one knows.

Vanya steps forward again, into his space, her smile serene.

“This is what’s going to happen. Consider this is your only warning. You are going to leave Sonya and the rest of my students alone. You will never call my house again. You will never come near them again. If you try anything, well you don’t want to test me do you? I _will_ ruin you.” She lifts the knife to his throat, presses in, watches him gulp audibly as she draws blood. “I could turn you into a human cello, carve you up right here, nice and slow, take you out, and play you for a crowd and there wouldn’t be any charges that stick to me. I’d probably get applauded for it. In fact, tell me a reason I shouldn’t do any of that right now.”

There’s a thud in the background. The smell of ammonia hits her nose. Her shoes are wet. Vanya wrinkles her nose distastefully and steps back.

She’s made her point.

“Good talk.”

 

* * *

 

 

She collapses against a building few blocks away as what she just did hits her. She’d meant every single word she’d said to each of them. She’d gone to Sonya’s foster parents with the intention of hurting them. Of _killing_ them. Consequences be fucking damned.

Except this will have consequences and they will bite Vanya.

Shit, shit, _shit_. They could go to the cops. They could go to the cops and _take Sonya and Ezekiel away from her_. They could take her children away from her.

Fuck.

Fuck.

She needs to do something about that.

What exactly does she do?

Why the fuck did she go and do that?

 _What would Reginald do?_ It’s the same cold voice at the back of her head from earlier asking, cutting through the incoming panic attack.

He’d leverage it, Vanya thinks. He’s leveraged it before. Questions from more astute people wondering why a billionaire was sending superpowered children to fight crime and why wasn’t anyone stopping him: by arguing that they were working in tandem with the overworked police force and covering up the gorier bits. Questions about just how Reginald trained them: carefully lied and avoided. Questions that arose after she’d written her Book. Vanya had got a letter from his lawyers after that. They claimed a portion of her earnings from the Book because apparently her father was the one behind the comics and toys and what not. Vanya had used his patent illegally.

Reginald leverages everything to his advantage. That’s how he functioned, got away with things.

And just like that, Vanya knows what she has to do next.

 

* * *

 

 

She goes to the Police Station and files a report and Restraining Order. Tells the Officer taking down her complaint about Sonya’s bruises. Tell him about the phone calls, attempts to gaslight her and her students and threaten them. (True) She tells him about how Sonya’s father cornered her students today. (True) She tells him about how he told Vanya he was going to accuse her of kidnapping (true) and threatening to kill them (false). Her hands shake. The Officer rightly assumes that she’s panicky and terrified about the whole situation, but not for the reasons she actually is, and it works in her favour.

“Ms Vanya, we’ll keep an eye out. And can I say, you’re amazing for doing what you are for this girl.”

“She’s a kid, I just want to keep her safe,” because that’s what started this. Vanya walked into someone’s house ready to murder them because they hurt her kids. She walked in here ready to ruin someone’s life for the same reason.

The officer smiles at her. There’s an emotion she can’t place in it. He even offers to drop her home, which Vanya gladly takes because she’s not sure if she can walk any more.

 

* * *

 

 

Sonya and Ezekiel pounce on her the moment she steps back in. A whole bunch of noise and teary shudders and all she can make out is they feared the worst about her. From the corner of her eye, she sees Damon lowering his gun. It should terrify her, but it eases her instead. Fuck, she’d be okay with even being shot, at least it was because someone took protecting her kids as seriously as she does.

“Your dad won’t be bothering us any more. I saw to it.” The crying gets harder – Sonya, and Ezekiel’s making confused noises. Damon is thankfully quiet, but Vanya catches his inquisitive look.

“Went to the cops. Told them everything. Why wait for the morning right?” It’s not the whole truth but it is part of it.

Damon nods but the frown doesn’t leave his face. He clearly agrees with Vanya even though he doesn’t like the way she went about it. And she gets it. Leaving her kids like that after what happened today clearly hasn’t helped their mental states.

“We were supposed to go in the morning.” He tells her plainly. His gaze says something different. Ah. He also knows she’s hiding something too. Thankfully, it looks like he’s electing to not bring it up in front of the kids.

“I know, I just… wouldn’t be able to sleep. I wanted this over and done with and to go back to my usual life. Come on you two, go clean up for bed,” she tries for casual. It comes easily because she popped in two pills on her way home. “Ezekiel, you’re sleeping in my room tonight. We don’t want you disturbing Damon with your snoring.”

Ezekiel squawks and Sonya giggles. Their eyes are still watery, but they’re clearly relieved she’s back home in one piece.

Once they’re both gone, Damon turns to her, “You should go put that knife back in the kitchen. Wash it up if there’s blood on it.”

She inhales sharply. But Damon’s gaze is not accusing. Just firm. “I _did_ actually go to the Police Station you know.” She tells him.

“I know. I trust you.” No accusation. No anger. No what the fuck did you do, what kind of monster are you. Just pure hard trust. Vanya deflates like her strings have been cut. Damon hugs her, hand rubbing at her back, a steady form of support. “And when you’re ready to tell me what _else_ you did, I’ll listen. No judgement.”

“I’d do anything for these kids if it meant keeping them safe.” The words rip themselves out of her from somewhere deep inside her, soft and heartfelt. It takes her by surprise. Like the first time she told Ezekiel he was her kid, that they were all _hers_.

She’s not joking. She _would_.

(She almost did tonight.)

Damon, surprisingly, chuckles. As if Vanya’s shared an in-joke. When she pulls away his gaze is warm, eyes crinkled a little at the corners. “You’re a good person Vanya Hargreeves, a great teacher, and _a really good parent_ – even if you’re a little violently overprotective.”

Oh.

Vanya thinks her ears may be burning.

There’s so much sheer fuckery that’s happened today. There will be so many things to deal with tomorrow. The fallout. The planning. The self defence lessons, and setting up a system, and working with the police. Waiting to see if Sonya’s foster parents do anything, waiting to see if they accuse her. The struggle to get back to normalcy after everything.

And yet Damon’s words are like a magic spell. She feels incredibly _light_. Like gravity doesn’t exist and she could float to another solar system accompanied by golden light.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime V.”

 

* * *

 


End file.
